My trusty smartphone’s battery was going and, rather than fix the battery, I went for an upgrade. I originally got an HTC because, in 2012, it was rated as the best Android phone. I also liked that it was Taiwanese and, probably, not made by slave labor at Foxconn. I loved that phone even when it got old and, while I am not a heavy phone user – or even, I suspect, an average user – I still loved the way the HTC looked, with its tapered sides and solid, metal, construction. When I got a new phone, I got another HTC because, probably, I am stubborn and, at $600, it was 25% cheaper than the Samsung and Google equivalents. I also figured it would work well with Google Assistant – Google’s Siri equivalent – because HTC built the first Google Pixel and Google has invested $1.1 billion in HTC.
So I now have the new phone and it is a disappointing experience. The problem with buying any replacement phone or a camera, for that matter, is that they always do what the old phone/camera did…only slightly better (in this case, I prefer the looks of the old phone which doesn’t help). Yeah, I can conveniently play Alison Wonderland on Spotify through the livingroom speakers but I could do that on my old phone too. However, what this phone does have is Google Assistant and I am warming up to saying “OK Google, phone Michele” and having it actually happen. A couple of days ago, Michele and I were having a Siri/OK Google talk off, I had just opened OK Google when Michele said “Hey Siri” and then, seeing I had opened Google, said, “Oh, sorry.” OK Google said, “That’s OK, don’t be sorry. I admire Siri, in fact, I wrote her a poem.” My old phone couldn’t do that.
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This year, as luck would have it, the last Super Moon of a cluster of three fell on Michele’s birthday. And to make it even more special, according to Michele, this Super Moon was a Blue Moon – meaning that it was the second Super Moon of the month – with a total eclipse that resulted in it being a Blood Moon just before the dawn of her birthday. If you are into that sort of thing, which I am not, but Michele is, it is almost too exciting to bear. The day before ended with a sweet sunset. On the West Coast, the moon eclipse was about five in the morning and Michele’s plan was to get up every hour starting about three. I slept so I can’t attest to how many times Michele got up, but about five she woke me and it was pretty terrific.
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Michele came home, the other day, with the lemons you see above and a quarter pound each on two kinds of sashimi grade fish. She had been at Berkeley Bowl and I don’t think there is anywhere else in the world where she could have found both stripped lemons and the fish.
Michele and I saw The Post, the other night and I liked it, a lot. Maybe because it is political, maybe because it is a sort of homage to old-timey newspaper movies, but, mostly, I think because it is so comfortably familiar. I’m not normally a Steven Spielberg fan but he was the perfect director for this movie. The scenes of Merrill Streep walking into a room of all men, all in their dark power suits, seem so familiar from my growing-up past and Streep’s tentative reaction is perfect. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t grow up in that environment, but I did grow up in an environment that was trying to ape that life. A life in which rich, cultivated, women were close to powerless but had the time and money to look great in their clothes. It was a time when a woman being powerful was considered crass. Merrill Streep is great as one of these powerless women, Kay Graham – trusted only to manage the family while her husband was given a newspaper to run by her father – is forced to take control. 




